


Textual Ghosts

by thegreatpumpkin



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 06:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10406316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/pseuds/thegreatpumpkin
Summary: A playlist for Tolkien mothers and their children, and a series of ficlets inspired by that playlist.





	1. Playlist

**Author's Note:**

> I uh. Cried a lot making this playlist, so be forewarned. Feels incoming.

  
  


## [Listen on Playmoss](https://playmoss.com/en/thegreatpumpkin/playlist/textual-ghosts)

**1\. Earwen and her sons and daughter**  
 _Green Island Serenade, Vienna Teng_  
(Translated)  
My darling, you too are floating in the sea of my heart,  
Let the sound of my song follow the breeze,  
blowing open the curtain of your window,  
Let my love follow the flowing water,  
endlessly pouring out its feelings for you. 

**2\. Nerdanel and Maedhros**  
 _Lions and Tigers, Sleater-Kinney_  
How come all the rulers of this earth  
Get off on teaching something strong  
Please learn to rule with your head, not your fist  
And those lessons that you learn will carry on 

**3\. Galadriel and Celebrian**  
 _Heart of the House, Alanis Morissette_  
We left the men we went for a walk in the gateaus  
And talked like women like women to women would  
Woman to woman would "where did you get that from?  
Must've been your father your dad"  
I got it from you I got it from you 

**4\. Aredhel and Maeglin**  
 _Everything Wrong, Martha Wainwright_  
There is one thing I want you to be  
That is smarter than me  
If things, they don't seem right,  
Open your wings and take flight  
Don't stick around to watch the pieces fall 

**5\. Elwing and her sons**  
 _Mother, Lita Ford_  
He paints an ugly picture of you and I  
It's so far from truth  
[...]  
Please understand why I had to leave  
Pain was deep,  
He was hurting me,  
When you look in the sky at a shining star  
Listen to your heart and know who you are 

**6\. Emeldir and Beren**  
 _Son, Warpaint_  
Standing in the garden,  
Got my number from the one who says go  
Leave the son alone  
  
You can care, you can stand the reason to go on  
Can't hear anyone tell you what you like!  
You can rest in finding that your roof is well covered  
You can see the reason why your story is not over! 

**7\. Elenwe and Idril**  
 _Winter, Tori Amos_  
Where the drifts get deeper  
Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown  
I hear a voice  
"Your must learn to stand up for yourself  
Cause I can't always be around"  
[...]  
When you gonna make up your mind  
When you gonna love you as much as I do 

| 

**8\. Curufin's wife and Celebrimbor**  
 _Lullaby for a Stormy Night, Vienna Teng_  
Little child, be not afraid  
Though rain pounds harshly against the glass  
Like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger  
I am here tonight 

**9\. Luthien and Dior**  
 _Landslide, Dixie Chicks_  
Well, I've been afraid of changin'  
'Cause I've built my life around you  
But time makes you bolder  
Even children get older  
And I'm getting older, too 

**10\. Nimloth and Elwing**  
_Little Green, Joni Mitchell_  
Just a little green  
Like the color when the spring is born  
There'll be crocuses to bring to school tomorrow  
Just a little green  
Like the nights when the Northern lights perform  
There'll be icicles and birthday clothes  
And sometimes there'll be sorrow 

**11\. Celebrian and Arwen**  
_Rocks and Water, Deb Talan_  
I don't fear the dark anymore  
'Cause I'm become all that  
  
I will be rocks, I will be water  
I will leave this to my daughter:  
Lift your head up in the wind  
When you feel yourself grow colder  
Wrap the night around your shoulders  
And I will be with you even then  
Even when I cannot see your face anymore 

**12\. Elwing and her sons, bonus edition**  
_Nobody But the Baby, O Brother Where Art Thou Soundtrack (Alison Krauss, Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch)_  
Your momma's gone away and your daddy's gone to stay  
Didn't leave nobody but the baby  
[...]  
You and me and the devil makes three  
Don't need no other lovin' babe 

**13\. Morwen and Nienor**  
_Build a Levee, Natalie Merchant_  
Now when I was just a little girl my mamma said to me,  
Beware of the devil my child  
But if by chance you should meet  
Beware of his cold dark eyes full of bold and unholy deceit 

**14\. Idril and Earendil**  
_Little Star, Madonna  
_ Never forget where you come from  
From love  
You are a treasure to me  
You are my star  
  
---|---


	2. Nerdanel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nerdanel after the Kinslaying.
> 
>  
> 
> _How come all the rulers of this earth_  
>  _Get off on teaching something strong_  
>  _Please learn to rule with your head, not your fist_  
>  _And those lessons that you learn will carry on_

She had always had a strong stomach. It was a useful quality, for one who had borne seven children, including a pair of twins.

When she heard what her boys had done, it failed her. She retched until there was nothing left to purge, sobbed until her face was a hard mask of dried salt; it felt like purging the poison, but the grief and horror sprang from a generous aquifer, refilling the instant they stopped draining.

Fëanor alone would have broken her heart, estranged though they now were. But she had not raised Fëanor, nursed him at her breast, taught him to count and cook and carve. She could not wonder where he had gone wrong; that was not her burden. But her sons, oh her sons; she had taught them to be strong (too strong?)—but always gentle with it, she thought, always just.

There was no gentleness in the news from Alqualondë, and even less justice.

Had she been too soft with them, or too hard? A statue was one thing, starting with nothing, a featureless block, working slowly towards perfection. The form would grow clearer with every stroke of the chisel, and she could tell the moment it went wrong—and whether it could be brought back, or only scrapped.

Building a person was different. You made something perfect at the start, and then struggled for the rest of time to keep from ruining that perfection. The tools to hand were largely blind guessing, and contradictory advice from everyone who had done it before you; there was no apprenticeship for parenthood. She'd had seven tries, and even considering her inevitable mistakes, they had always seemed to be her masterworks.

She would rather have wasted every piece of marble she'd ever laid hands on than let her sons become monsters.

What words could she have said to them? What lessons could she have taught differently?

When her Maitimo, sweet Maitimo with her hair and his father's nose, calmly settled disputes between the younger ones—how was she to know there was a fracture somewhere down deep, a fissure that would only reveal itself when the shaping was long done? Little Carnistir who had her freckles, quick to anger but also soon to forgive—had there been warning signs she had not seen? Her twins, her youngest boys, who she could hardly believe were as grown as they were already—where in their growing years was the seed for violence sown? Seven sons, seven beloved sons, and not one of them had turned away or held back. Each of them had crafted this horror with their own hands, as she had crafted each of them with hers.

It was too late to change anything. It was impossible to know for certain whether anything could have changed.

 

 

There are seven blocks of stone in her studio, tall and narrow, for steles.

Apparently she never knew the right words to say—someone else will have to write the epitaphs. It is too late to change anything.

But this time, she will carve every one of them without a single mistake.


	3. Eärwen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eärwen in the summer sea.
> 
> _My darling, you too are floating in the sea of my heart,_  
>  _Let the sound of my song follow the breeze,_  
>  _blowing open the curtain of your window,_  
>  _Let my love follow the flowing water,_  
>  _endlessly pouring out its feelings for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit where credit's due: Finrod's nickname was inspired by MJ's [adorable art of Elwing catching minnows](http://snartha.tumblr.com/post/158715048851/catching-minnows-in-a-bucket).
> 
> I tried to pick a less sad prompt today!
> 
> Also, for the purposes of this story, Orodreth is a son of Finarfin and Eärwen, and all five children were born fairly close together—Finrod's the elvish equivalent of 10-ish, while Galadriel is not yet walking or talking, and the other three are spaced out more or less evenly between.

The sand was soft and warm where her feet sank in; Eärwen curled her toes for the simple pleasure of it. She would have a host of new freckles by the Mingling—but the heat of Laurelin felt too nice, too perfectly balanced against the coolness of the sea where she stood waist-deep, to seek shade.

Findaráto would be all over freckles too, though that was nothing new. The younger ones had gone sailing with Arafinwë, but Findaráto seemed happy to stay at her side, floating on his back and staring dreamily at the sky. Occasionally he would roll over and swim off to investigate some interesting shell or aquatic denizen, but he always drifted back to tell her what he'd found.

Artanis was in her basket, bobbing with the gentle swells, towed along on a line tethered to Eärwen's belt. She had drowsed for most of the morning, but now she was awake and bright-eyed; and, unusually for her, not making use of the prodigious lungs she'd been born with. Eärwen held out one of the treasures Findaráto had begged her to stash in her skirt-pockets, a scallop shell worn smooth, and Artanis reached for it with one tiny fist. Her grip had been strong from the first, though she was still working on her depth perception; it took a few tries for her to seize the prize.

Findaráto surfaced again beside the basket, careful not to splash the baby. He beamed down at her for a moment, pleased at how she reached for him with the unoccupied hand. Then his face took on the slightly serious cast it had when he was thinking hard. "Ammë?"

"Yonya?" Eärwen said in a playful imitation of his frowning tone. That earned a smile, but only a small one.

"Can I tell you about my dream?"

Ah. Those troubled him, sometimes. Foresight was a difficult thing for one so small. "Of course, Minnow."

He shuffled his feet a little, kicking up a cloud of sand beneath the clear water, and for a moment she wondered if it was a different sort of dream. But no, he wasn't quite to that age yet. She made a mental note to have Arafinwë talk to him about that anyway, when he had a moment.

"It wasn’t a bad dream,” he said slowly. “Artanis and I were grown, and speaking to a man who—I don’t know him, but I did in the dream. He was Teler like us. I think Artanis was courting him. I was trying to help, I think, though she didn’t need me one bit.” Eärwen suppressed her smile at that. “Nothing very exciting happened. It’s not really about what happened, I suppose, I just realized that when it comes—” He glanced almost guiltily at his sister. “I know I'm not meant to have favorites, but I think Artanis will be my favorite. Even over Arto." He worried his lip, distressed, and Eärwen’s heart could break from the sweetness of it. "Not because she's the baby. I think we'll understand one another the best. But it isn't fair to like her best, just because she'll be the most like me!"

"Oh, sweetness." She pulled him into her arms, unconcerned at how the few dry spots left on her blouse were immediately soaked. "That isn't how love works." She lifted a hand, stroking his sopping curls back from his forehead, and gave him a reassuring smile. "You're going to love so many people, more the older you grow, and you'll love each of them a little differently. Sometimes you'll feel closer to one or the other; sometimes that will change from day to day, or year to year. You're not stealing love from your brothers to give more to your sister. You have enough for all of them."

She thought, briefly, of mentioning how his father was closer to Nolofinwë than to Fëanáro, but still loved them both; but Findaráto was a little too perceptive about some things, and she did not think it wise to introduce the idea that any of his brothers could grow as cool towards him as Fëanáro was towards Arafinwë. Instead she took another tack. "You do a grand job taking care of your brothers and sister, my love, but they can take care of you too, when they are old enough. Sometimes the people we feel happiest to be with are the ones who can support us in the same way we support them. It does not reflect badly on your brothers, or on you, if that is one of Artanis' skills when she grows."

He seemed to chew that over, his small shoulders relaxing bit by bit beneath her hands. "I won’t treat them any differently. I'll still look after Arto and Aiko and Ango when you need me to," he offered at last, his voice lifting a tiny bit at the end, as if it were a question.

Eärwen laughed and kissed the top of his head. "Of course you will, Minnow. Artanis too, when she can run enough to keep up with the rest of you. You're the best big brother they could ask for."

Findaráto smiled truly at that and she squeezed him tight one more time before letting him go. He bent over the basket again to tickle Artanis' toes. "You will be running soon, won't you?" Artanis blew spit bubbles at him.

Emotional crisis averted, Eärwen's curiosity got the better of her. "So you saw your sister all grown? What was she like?"

Findaráto lifted his head again and gave her his most dazzling smile. "She'll be the best of us."

"Well," she said softly, unable to resist ruffling his hair again, no matter how bad it would be combing out the salt-tangles later, "considering the competition, that's really saying something."


End file.
